[NYY #23]

It’s the bottom of the ninth inning of the World Series, and the Cleveland Indians are down 3-0 with the tieing run at the plate. After managing just 1 hit through the first eight innings, we managed a weak singles and then reached base on an error to start the ninth inning, putting runners on first and second. A botched sacrifice bunt and a strike out left the runners on first, with two outs in the inning. I'm sitting on the on-deck circle as Grady Sizemore steps to the plate, and the Met's manager makes a slow walk to the mound to bring in their closer, K-Rod.

The crowd at the Jake is going wild, chanting G-R-A-D-Y, G-R-A-D-Y, over and over and you can fill the electricity in the air, as the Indians try to come back and win their first World Series since 1948. As I stand in the on-deck circle taking a couple of practice swings, while K-Rod is warming up getting ready to face Grady Sizemore, it is the moment every kid dreams about, game 7 of the World Series, and getting to win the game. I know I've dreamed about this moment all my life, and since I was drafted by the Indians it has been the only thing I could think of, winning the World Series for the Indians.

I start to feel a little panic attack come on, and take a minute to look around the crowd, and find my wife and three kids in the stands, sitting next to my father and mother. Of course, I may never get my chance if Grady doesn't deliver, but I stop swinging the bat as I look to the field and see him step in to the batter's box, take a couple of practice swings, and step out again one last time and take a look into the dugout to get the sign, the green light to swing away if he sees a pitch he likes. The first pitch from K-Rod comes in high and tight as Grady steps back quickly and takes ball one and glares at K-Rod.

I try to calm my nerves, and study each and every movement K-Rod is making on the mound, from shaking off signs to the wind-up to the delivery. I must have been watching a little too closely, but the crack of the bat breaks me out of my trance as I see the ball travelling high and far down the right field line. You can almost hear the whole stadium holding their breath, but at the last minute the ball just curves foul, nothing but a long strike.

The next two pitches were inside fastballs, which were both fouled off, and the count was 1-2. Pitch number 4 was a hard curve that Grady swung and missed on, but the pitch hit the dirt and got past the catch, travelling all the way to the backstop. My heart skipped a beat when Grady swung and missed, but when I saw the pitch hit the dirt and skip back to the backstop as Grady took off for first base I felt some hope. He beat the throw to first by a half step, and the crowd went wild.

Not exactly how we would have wanted things to go in the bottom of the ninth, but bases loaded, two outs and the winning run coming to the plate, things could have gone worse. It was my turn now as I slowly walked to the plate. The crowd began chanting my name, N-E-L-S-O-N, N-E-L-S-O-N, N-E-L-S-O-N………….to be continued